


maybe I fell in love when you woke me up

by karishma



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, it's very minimal, only background lilo though soz, proposal, this has so many italics I want to throw myself out a window
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-29
Updated: 2013-08-29
Packaged: 2017-12-25 00:10:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/946351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karishma/pseuds/karishma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>harry loves niall so much he can't <em>breathe</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	maybe I fell in love when you woke me up

**Author's Note:**

> this story isn't true in this universe, but it could be true in another one.  
> all mistakes are my own.  
> title from ed sheeran's 'wake me up'.

Harry counts Niall’s star chart freckles that line his shoulders while Niall stirs the dough. He dances his fingers along the ridges, dipping and rising and feeling him shudder when he knocks into the nobs of his spine. He presses his lips to the back of Niall’s neck, under his sunshine hair and doesn’t have to look to know that his cheeks are already stained strawberry.

“Harry, babe, did you put the sugar in?” Niall turns and asks.

Harry just. Niall has these eyes, okay, and sometimes it’s hard to concentrate on anything except for the little silver ring that lines his pupil (don’t even get Harry started on silver rings, he’s had one sitting in an empty acne medication bottle since February).

And now Harry can’t remember if he’s put the sugar in the bowl so he pinches some off the ball and sticks it in Niall’s mouth with a _dunno, you tell me_.

Harry’s an idiot when it comes to Niall, and he’s normally _fantastic_ with baking but when he’s in the same room as this boy he honestly can’t focus on anything except the dimple on the lower left corner of Niall’s palm and the tiny scar that’s behind his right ear.

So when Niall’s eyebrows twitch and his nose scrunches a little before he smooths out and replies _yeah, perfect_ , Harry immediately knows that he’s put in too much sugar.

The need to fix everything, make it nice for Niall, is overwhelming and suffocating so he says,”Ni, would you go get the CD from our room? The one with the, you know, the roses I think?”

“Yeah, ‘course. Look at you, proper hipster– CDs and all,” Niall prods, but his eyes glimmer so Harry knows it’s rooted in endearment and when he’s out of the kitchen Harry can finally breathe and he adds more flour and baking powder and water to the bowl.

Harry had first asked Niall on a date not long after What Makes You Beautiful debuted, and he remembers the shape of Niall’s nose and the color on his cheeks and not much else. He had been sure that this feeling, the one overriding all of his senses, would fade fast, but it’s five years later and he still can’t think when there’s synthetically blonde hair and Irish Spring soap ( _it’s patriotic, I swear_ ) next to him.

Niall pops a kiss on Harry’s temple and pushes the disc into the Bose speaker next to the toaster.

 _Where’s all my soul sisters, let me hear y’all flow, sisters_ , Harry hears Niall sing along and laughs as Niall spreads his arms out, beckoning for thousands of fans to join in that aren’t in their kitchen (he uploads a Vine of Niall with the caption _let me hear y’all flow, sisters_ and shows Niall all the best replies).

Louis runs into the kitchen, because Lady Marmalade is his fucking _anthem_ , and sings along to the rap. _I’m sayin’, why spend mine when I can spend yours. Disagree? Well that’s you and I’m sorry_.

Zayn enters the kitchen to grab the chocolate milk carton while scrolling down his Twitter feed. Harry whistles along to the song, _itchy gitchi, yaya, dada_ , and Zayn says,

“You do know that literally translates to ‘get your sex, daddy,’ yeah?”

Harry flushes, but shrugs and continues singing, _voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soir_ , so Zayn leaves, pulling Louis out with him and yelling to Liam that it’s his _job to keep Louis out of the kitchen, that’s it Li, you have one job. Honestly, all you had to do was give him a blowjob, god knows you’ve had enough practice_.

They can hear Louis squeal about how he’s _not_ easy, _goddamn_ , but the rest of his tirade is drowned out from laughter because, yeah, for Liam Louis is easy.

They manage to ball the cookie dough onto a sheet with the help of an ice cream scooper. Niall has flour running through his hair and Harry tries get it all out, but he remembers too late that he has flour all over his hands and Niall’s hair is looking forty times worse than before, so.

So he kisses Niall, because that’s something that he does remember how to do currently, how to catch the arch of Niall’s lip first before slotting together properly. He licks in slowly, can still taste the sugared cookie dough on Niall’s tongue, and runs his thumb through the hair by his ear and over the little scar.

When the cookies finish twenty minutes later, the boys come running in the kitchen, take one look at their cherry red lips and bird’s nest hair dos and scamper out again, catcalling and yelling “bet you accidentally got the milk mixed up with something else, if you know what I mean,” and Zayn snickers quietly at them and looks at Niall’s unadorned fourth finger on his left hand.

He glares a little at Harry, conveying _it’s past time, Harry, you’ve had him waiting forever_ , and then shrugs a little, because Harry is nothing if not slow.

Niall looks a little confused because, “no one wants the cookies?” And then, “well, there are definitely more for us now.”

So tomorrow when Harry wakes up he watches the sun filter in through their sheer curtains and bounce off Niall’s hair and the white duvet and then shifts out of bed, scrambling into the medicine cabinet, pouring out a small silver ring from the bottle.

He crawls back into bed, quietly, and slips the ring onto Niall’s fourth finger, left hand, because there is no question at this point. He locks their fingers and kisses Niall until he wakes up, and then some.

Niall might cry when he sees the ring, Harry might cry more, it’s whatever.

The thing is, nothing has ever been clearer than this– this morning with Niall and Harry and a silver ring and a white duvet and golden tears and red lips and.

Harry is glad because _this_ is something he needs to remember.

**Author's Note:**

> still really new at this whole writing thing, so any and all feedback goes ages (you have no idea).  
> you can find me on tumblr at sinabit.


End file.
